


Change is Not Welcomed Here

by IWalkInAir



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Kidnapping, M/M, Mech Preg, Minor Violence, Other, Romantic Fluff, Slow To Update, hinted pairings, hinted past spark sex, possible triggers, tags may be added or changed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWalkInAir/pseuds/IWalkInAir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet has fallen into a reclusive routine and comms Wheeljack. Secrets don't stay secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Medbay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilpreciousone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilpreciousone/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the transformers tv shows, comics, ect. nor their characters!
> 
> First and foremost this is my first story on AO3! Hope you like it.  
> This story may contain: violence, hinted past spark sex, and kidnapping.  
> (Anything else i say will bring up too many spoilers for this story.)

Any bot who could distinguish between the colors red and purple could also testify of the recent change. At first it was hardly noticeable. A fleck of dust in the corner of the optic. Now, residents of the Ark could all pinpoint the source, yet none spoke up... Few murmured.

Some strive to convince themselves the anomaly is a possible improvement. Besides, everyone could do without a processor-ache every other cycle, though the annual routine developed over many solar-cycles included the (now absent) ruckus. It might as well have been embedded into their very existence, for it was expected! Three Earth weeks have passed without so much as a shout echoing down the med bay hallway... or from within the med bay as a matter of fact.

*I will take a guess and say you are wondering how this came to be and will things ever return to the way they were.

Well... you will just have to be patient.*

The bay had similar activity easily compared to that of a graveyard. People came, spoke little, waited patiently, left. The famous Hatchet's rage was nowhere to be found. It wasn't caused by a lack of bots in need of repairs, the Lamborghini twins ensured him of that. Never did the mech fail to deliver his you-reckless-aft-head speech though it's volume had dialed down quiet a bit, therefore it lacked the intimidating factor. Replaced with sharp advice.

Hardly did the CMO leave the confines of his personal office this week, even for a cube to refuel. The medic had fallen into a reclusive routine. No bot was to bother him unless someone was in need of his expertise, which would have been quite often if not for his assistant First Aid along with the ever so eager Swoop.

Currently the two stood huddled in a corner tinkering on supplies for possible recycling. Each item needed to be washed, sanitized, and/or sightly altered. The winged dinobot had been volunteered to take care of the two former, sloshing around a bucket of parts submerged in hot water and solvents. Every now and then he'd reach in the water and pluck out two or three parts with his sharp claws for inspection. Tedious work, yes, but in the optics of Swoop it was worth it.

He got to spend time with First Aid and his grumpy-daddy bot... When his grumpy-daddy bot came out of the office at least. To Swoop's dismay, when Ratchet was up and about he was too distracted and busy for small talk with the others. 

'Maybe he be busy-daddy bot now.' Swoop thought plucking up another delicate part. Nice, clean, and soon to be dry.

*0*0*0*0*

“Stupid twins.” Bumblebee mumbled to no one in particular as he cradled his malfunctioning servo with the other.

The Arch's prank wars were stronger then they had ever been... and in this case, annoying as well. For the forth time this month alone, Bee passed through the med bay doors. First Aid took quick notice of the yellow minibot, abandoning his work in the process.

“Hey Bee! What can I do for you?” the red and white mech asked.

Bumblebee vented softly as he recalled this morning's events. Despite all his precautions, yet again the twins managed to swap the mini's data pad for one rigged to shock the user. Not enough to be lethal in the slightest, but it still hurt like slag and often led to slight joint malfunctions.

Bee pulled the cursed data pad from his subspace with an awkward grin. This was all the explanation Aid needed, now that a bot came in every other day with one. Before the assistant medic could examine the damage, the yellow bot spoke up.

“Um. I was wondering where the old doc-bot went. It'd be nice to see him.”

“I hate to be a kill joy, but he's busy at the moment. I assure you that I am fully capable of fixing your servo.” First Aid gently tugged his patient towards a medical berth.

“I know. I know. Do you think he'd mind if I just popped in there to say hello?” Bee asked curiously.

He wasn't expecting a 'yes' and did not want to 'poke the bear' as the humans would have put it. He was simply curious like the rest of Autobots. The mech was ill prepared for the slew of questions to follow. The dinobot and protectobot had a long list of situations given to them from Ratchet, helping identify what may require his presence.

“Are you on fire?” started First Aid with a blank expression.

As if they had hours upon hours of rehearsal, the two bots began to fire away questions.

Swoop flashed a fanged grin as he called over his shoulder, “You have cosmic rust?”

“No-” Bee wasn't able to say much because Aid interrupted.

“Are you loosing energon at a life threatening rate?”

“You missing limbs?”

“Have you experienced any spark attacks lately?”

“You have a virus?”

There was no stopping it! Questions, questions, questions. It wasn't long before he tuned them out, now they sounded little more then murmuring blah-blah-blah-blah-blah... A good thing too, since their inquiries became more and more complicated by the nanoclick. Bumblebee had to admit it though, hearing a dinobot say things like “abrasion”, “zirconium oxide”, and “exhaust stroke” was kind of trippy.

“Do you suspect corrosion in your tank? Symptoms include metal flakes in purged energon.” The assistant medic had made busy with Bee's repairs and was oblivious to the sound of a door swing open.

As for Swoop, he chirped the next question without hesitation, for it was his favorite! No long complicated words and... (Well, you can guess)

“You be Wheeljack?”

“Yes?”

Every bot glanced over at the newcomer, and true to his word, the one and only Autobot Lancia Stratos stood. His gaze flitted to the med bay's office door then back to the others. The mech's digit tips on his right servo showed signs of minimal cosmetic burns, common for an engineer who's been working with a high powered laser or blowtorch. Definitely not something he'd fuss over, however... He was here and First Aid wanted to know why exactly.


	2. See him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! Accept it!

Silence... It's not like he asked for Primus himself to snap Megatron out of existence, yet this simple thing seemed just as unattainable. Ratchet was displeased to find the pestering noise of his cooling fans kicking on and off repetitively to be the source of his problems. Not a bot whining about their injuries, not the hum of chatter filtering threw room to room, and not the clinks and clanks of medical tools. No.

The medic tried to enjoy the brief time span of peace and quiet whenever his system's core temperature was momentarily stabilized. However, the nanoclick Ratchet would get relaxed the fans kicked on and each vent expelled dry air.

'It's only going to get worse from here on out.' he continued to tell himself, 'But it won't last forever.'

He wasn't the kind of mech to waste valuable time dwelling on the “what if's” yet was always thinking of “how to fix it.” Avoiding the problem would only escalate the situation and half-truth's would only last so long. Besides, Ratchet hated closing his end of the bond... 

*0*0*0*0*

“Happy-daddy bot!” Swoop rushed over, arms wrapping around the mechanic in a good 'ol hug.

Wheeljack couldn't help, but chuckle. It was always satisfying to see Swoop keeping busy in the medbay. Actually, it was satisfying when any of his creations found their place on board the Arch, especially the Dinobots. (considering many bots still saw them as brutes without processors)

“Hey! Did I interrupt something?” Wheeljack asked, returning the gesture.

“No, not really. Just these two and their billions of questions... and I guess you passed!” Bumblebee smiled as he mimed the movements of First Aid's servo with ease, “Thanks Aid.” 

“Any time.” The assistant medic placed down his tools and gave a firm pat to Bee's shoulder plating. Who in return, smiled back as he strolled out of the medbay.

With some reluctance, Swoop finally let go heading back to his abandoned bucket of parts, and (without a moments notice) Wheeljack was making a beeline for Ratchet's office door. His cheery optics momentarily overcome with worry, each step hastened. He appeared to be on the border line of simple impatience and desperate urgency. Curious, half way there Aid took it upon himself to intervene, stepping into the other's path.

“Unless it's an emergency, I don't think you should bother Ratchet.”

“But question twenty-seven is 'you be Wheeljack?' An he be Wheeljack!” the winged Dinobot reasoned, accidentally knocking a bit of water onto the floor tiles with his elbow as he turned to face them. Swoop sported a sheepish grin, hunching his shoulders slightly.

Aid vented deeply, “I know that. It's just-”

“It's just that I normally come here when something blew up in my face plate?” the engineer completed for him, “Not this time. I'm here because the doc-bot commed me.”

Wait. He commed Jack of all bots? First Aid knew the two were close friends and all, but Optimus was...... It was none of his business. The CMO could see whomever he pleased. Besides, the engineer was one of the few bots that could work a genuine wholehearted smile onto Ratchet's faceplate. Certainly he would help ease the medic's stress, and from what Aid observed of his superior, these last few cycles must have taken a toll. 

“T-tell me if he's alright. Okay?” the red and white mech shifted aside politely, watching Wheeljack continue forward.

“I will.”

*0*0*0*0*

“Oh no you won't! Over my wrenchless subspace!” Ratchet huffed, arms folded across his chassis in a stubborn manner. Was it not obvious enough for Wheeljack to realize he wanted to keep this on the down low? Seriously! He fragging closed his side of the bond for a few weeks. (a few weeks too many)

“The kid's worried about you. Sooner or later he's gonna find out on his own... At least tell Prime-”

The medic couldn't suppress a growl working through his vocalizer. Energon reddening his faceplate. “You know just as well as I do that if I tell Optimus, he'll go all protective on my aft. I wouldn't be allowed to leave base, I wouldn't be allowed to work over time, I wouldn’t......”

He leaned closer against the other's side with yet another vent of heated air. How annoying. Ratchet was grateful for being such a lucky mech. So many bots cared for his well being, and with out them... he'd of surely offlined by now. Though at times, there seemed to be too many, which often led to 'babying' or rules. He was no helpless sparkling! He was older than over half the Arch's crew for Primus' sake!

Wheeljack's finnials glowed with warm calming hues. His cool digits began to move and trace designs over his bonded's windshield like they had minds of their own. For a long while they simply enjoyed each other's presence. Moments alone together were moments to be treasured on such a crowed ship. A few more clicks passed and Ratchet's cooling fans whirled to a stop. The engineer's soft intakes hitched slightly as did his servos.

“Yes?” The medic pressed. 

“C-can I see him?” his question came out sounding a bit timid for his taste, but his optics were hopeful through and through.

“What has you thinking it'll be a 'him'?” 

“Well, neither of my creator's were fems and as far as I know, neither were yours. The chances of our bitling bein' a fem are just unlikely. One in a hundred chance to be exact.”

The corners of Ratchets lips plates dared to rise into a proud smirk, “Of course you can see him. Sparkling needs to meet his sire.”

Chassis plating shifted slowly at the seams. First the armor and glass followed by protoform and ending with his spark chamber. A blue light illuminated Wheeljack's blast mask as he peered closer. For a nanoclick or two, he strained his optics to better inspect the chamber's contents. Then he saw it.

A pale white spark orbiting it's carrier's in fluttering fashion. Small tendrils anchored the innocent sparkling with the thicker blue ones. So small. So fragile. The light seemed to try and mesh with the other and the medic's plating shuddered.

“I think he's cold. Better close up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the wonderful, wonderful chapter 2!


	3. A Little Bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like a very not good word... I am going to take a lil' break from this and work on all my other stories on Fanfiction for a while.
> 
> This chapter didn't come out as I would have liked... Nothing seemed to flow.
> 
> P.S. I've never gambled before, so sorry if I made things sound really weird.

Their energon supply was exceedingly low. Dangerously low. Had been for quite some time now. What they had was rationed in pitiful amounts of pitiful low grade. More bots could be found staggering about the halls with dazed optics as they went about their business. This was more common among the larger of mechs and flight frames, who burned through excessive amounts of fuel. Who started mixing their rations with water or even stashed away high grade. Desperate bots trying to fill their nearly empty tanks. 

Pitiful...

Soundwave couldn't think of a better word to describe it. Megatron had neglected his reports the first few months, but now it was imperative. Top priority.

The blue mech leaned further forward to better view the reports slowly piling up on the monitor. Three mechs (Dirge, Blitzwing, and Skywarp) had failed to send him a report before each of their off-duty shifts. Fifteen more complaints from an enraged group of overworked Constructicons for the TIC to delete. He didn't have the time to assess everything as he normally pleased.

This evening's meeting could possibly change the tide of the war by either resulting in Decepticon defeat or getting back up on their peeds with guns-a-blazing.

Of course this wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the destruction of their only space bridge, or they'd have simply requested an emergency shipment from Cybertron. Though it would have only bought them a good few extra months, since Cybertron itself was also low on its energon supply.... but no.

Certainly, Starscream was being reamed a new one for finishing what the Autobots had started. (Even if it had destroyed any hope the enemy had in downloading the bridge's schematics.) His actions cost them the space bridge.... One of their few advantages, their crutch for when the situation hit rock bottom, was no longer.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

First Aid never tried in one of the twins little betting games held in the rec-room. Technically it was Smokescreen's but the lambo brothers did all the advertising. Sideswipe stood on a table, that giddy smirk always present, waving his arms in welcoming gestures as if everyone was a guest at his party.... Not a bunch of bots suffering from a serious case of boredom and placing bets against fellow comrades currently the center of gossip. Luckily, Sunstreaker was still on shift, but Sides was doing fine without him today. Words rolled off his silver glossa forming smooth stanzas that caught the attention of those who heard. He'd always been a mech with a firm grip on the gift of speech.

Now, wasn't it just hilarious when such a mech was silenced by the small actions of the assistant medic? This would certainly change things.

“Repeat?” The protecto bot leaned forward, digits drumming against the table.

Sides tried to regain his composure, “It's about..... who's gonna be the one to push Ratchet over the edge, ya know.....”

Unlike the first few tries, their little games had become very well coordinated. The game's victim's schedule and habits were now thoroughly considered before the twins began to advertise. On and off shifts, favorite places to relax, favorite places to blow off steam, training sessions, ect.... AND they had to consider bots who were close with or often around the victim. Ratchet was the victim..... Firstaid was Ratchet's assistant. Frag.

Med-bots are rarely in the rec-room during midday. Especially since the med bay was one of the few rooms that had it's own energon dispenser. So, in the end, First Aid shouldn't have been right here, right now..... but alas.

“What are we betting?”

“Earth money.”

“Fine with me.”

He didn't understand exactly 'why' he decided to place a bet. Gambling had never sounded very appealing and always seemed like a waste of money. Sides hopped off the table and handed over a list of names. The bot's signature followed by their nominee and price. The twins were by far the most commonly nominated. Shortly after there were plenty of nominations for each of the dinobots. Huh... Surprised it wasn't the second most common choice, three bots had nominated Wheeljack. Aid couldn't agree more.

“Thirty dollars on Wheeljack.” He scribbled on the datapad quickly before he could change his mind. 

“Playing it safe, are ya?” The red twin asked with a slight smirk.

“And what if I am?”

The assistant medic was starting to pick up little quirks from their beloved CMO now, wasn't he? 

Across the room, Swoop smiled as his cutie-friend bot made his way back to the table. It had taken some convincing from happy-daddy bot to get First Aid to leave the med bay after Ratchet had requested the room be cleared of all bots excluding himself. Aid needed a break anyways, yet almost had to be dragged out of there. Luckily for the winged mech, he agreed to go with him to the rec-room for the time being.

Yes. He should do this more often.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Leaving his mate to run a few tests, he returned to his lab. There he was greeted by the familiar scent of greased tools with a touch burned energon and oil from past 'project failures'... Or 'learning experiences' as the engineer preferred to call them.

Yes, no matter how dangerously close he's came to joining the Well, he'd always be a hands-on-daredevil when it came to his inventions. Tampering on the edged of science's boundaries if only to catch a glimpse of the impossible. This was Wheeljack's way. Why only hypothesize? Why wait thousands upon millions of vorns to put one's hypothesize to use? This line of thought was common in times of war, but unlike most, this had always been Wheeljack's out look on everything.

That is why he is one of Cybertron's most successful inventors/engineers.... and most dangerous. 

To his surprise, Perceptor was rummaging through piles of parts with a slowly filling box tucked under his left arm. The scientist only came to his lab to collaborate on a project or to restock his own lab. (There was also the few times he came just to talk to someone who shared similar interests or someone who could understand more than half of the things that left his intake.)

“How ya doing, Percy?” Wheeljack greeted with a joyful flash of his head-finials.

The mech in question grinned as he placed some copper wires into the box, “As well as one can be searching through this mess. And you, might I ask?”

'Organized mess' Wheeljack thought to himself. “Same as always... What are the parts for? or you just filling empty shelves?”

“Most are just filling shelves for now. I have a few projects in mind, but they require few if any materials. Currently, I'm trying to recreate and improve the anti-rust formula. Hopefully this one will last longer.”

The original formula was supposed to be a permanent solution... yet three mere earth years later, they were back where they'd started.

“Yeah. What about project S.W.?” The engineer pressed. To tell the truth, he already knew the answer. Still, a positive mech like him could always be hopeful...

Perceptor sighed, setting his box on a nearby counter.

“You know as well as I do, we don't have nearly enough supplies and our few lucky scans of Skywarp aren't clear enough to see any of the fine details required and to top it all off, his warping ability is far from being a spacebridge.” He said in his matter-of-fact voice, “Project S.W. is on hold for the time being.”

“I hear ya, I hear ya.” Wheeljack waved a servo casually, “Just asking.”

The microscope gave his friend another smile. He'd asked that same question the last three times they had seen each other. Spacebridges were created by the Deceptiocons, and Wheeljack had yet to replicate their work. Something he couldn't do with only the help of Perceptor. They lacked the sufficient mech power and had to build their tools to do so from whatever they could scrounge from the humans legally.

I bothered him... bothered him to his very spark.

After a bit of self-reasoning, Perceptor decided it was time for a subject change, “I know... Pardon my curiosity, but what exactly have you been up to these last few weeks.”

From his own lab, not being too far from this one, he could normally hear (or occasionally feel) the inventor still up, working late nights. (Unlike these past couple of days.) It most likely had something to do with the engineer’s bonded. The red mech noted, however, that was no reason to believe that Wheeljack didn't have a project of his own. The mech's processor was always swimming with ideas. 

“Oh! This one, you're gonna love. I call it th................”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEAZE tell me how to improve! Cause i want to improve! Criticism, comments, and praise are all welcome!


	4. So Perfect...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and experiments!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking forever to update. Even more sorry it's short. Forgive me?

He could feel the small spark snuggle up against his own in search of warmth and comfort. The more it meshed, the more it became acquainted with its sire as Ratchet slowly took down the walls in his bond. The all too familiar presence of Wheeljack slipped back into the medic's spark along with plenty of welcoming pings towards the small entity. The sparkling soon after was pulsing with love and excitement, fluttering about before returning to a snug distance from Ratchet's spark.

Oh yes... He could tell that this sparklet was going to be an energetic little fragger like it's sire. 

It took nearly all his processor to stay focused on the task at hand when his servo kept drifting up to pat his chassis. There was no telling when the medbay would be clear again. Carefully he keyed in his code to the office, all the while balancing multiple cubes filled with coolant. Not enough to last more than a week max, but enough to go unnoticed by a certain assistant. His fans were no longer sufficient enough to quell the excess heat.

He wanted to get out of the office. He wanted to be productive and not a dead weight for the rest of the crew to carry. If he were to stay hidden, First Aid would eventually contact Prime. The only choice left was to hide the most prominent aspects of his condition. For the time being his temperature needed to be stabilized.

Ratchet carefully set the armful of cubes on the edge of the counter top closest to his refrigeration unit. One by one he stacked them inside the cold unit with the exception of one, which he wasted little time downing in a single go.

He could almost immediately feel improvement as the blue liquid settled in his tank. Now he just needed to wait until the coolant spread throughout the rest of his systems. Then, he could do more than sort through medical files. Luckily, he knew a wonderful way to pass the time.

Ratchet sent loving pings to his bonded and their sparkling. Both brightened at the pings and were quick to send their own. Love, joy, acceptance, care, peace, and comfort filled the bond and it became their own little game. First he would send a ping followed by Wheeljack and then their little creation would try and copy the pings received from both its creators. A little amusement trickled in from the engineer's corner of the bond at the little one's efforts.

The sire bond would continue to grow along with the sparklet.

So perfect.....

********************

"And what, pray tell, brought this up?" Perceptor carefully examined the piece from a safe distance. That is to say, behind the line drawn to signify the average radius of Jack's in-lab-explosions.

"The twins actually! Said I was getting too rusty and predictable." Wheeljack explained, "Said that explosions were all I'm good for."

It had been an awful day at the time. Ratchet had just closed the bond and successfully avoided him in every way possible. Project S.W. was denied for the one-hundred-eighty-sixth time. Then the good ol' Lamborghini twins decided to pull a prank right outside the lab.

He had to give them points for actually being able to pull a fast one on a certain invisible spy master, but the glitter and other bedazzlements were getting caught in the track of the lab doors. He still hasn't had the time to clean them out properly, now that he thought about it.

Anyways, after receiving a whole weeks worth of cleaning detail, the twins decided to drop by the lab just to brag and flaunt their achievements. The generally cheery and optimistic inventor had literally thrown them out on their afts after calling him rusty.

Of course, even in the midst of frustration, Wheeljack could conjure up a few blueprints and designs for new projects to dabble with.

"Well, they'll just have to rethink their disposition, no doubt, if they ever want to use it... Or do I assume too much?" the telescope questioned as he dared to step past the line in order to examine the device.

"Nah. Sounds about right." Jack's eyes gave away the grin concealed behind his blast mask, "Though It'll prove to be difficult, I bet I can get some other bots to test this baby out!"

"Please do tell me when it is ready for demonstration. It's not very often you work with implosion."

"Why don't I just show you now? She's not battlefield ready yet, but she's good for a shot or two." the lancia patted the awkward contraption and beckoned his fellow scientist closer.


	5. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.... No fluff in dis chapter.  
> Merry Christmas though! ^3^

Starscream had little to no desire to come to the meeting, yet found himself to be the first bot to show up. Well... That's if he didn't include a certain cassette player. Soundwave was always a stickler about being early to these things, whether it be about battle plans or simple repairs on the Nemesis.

Sliding into his seat, Starscream took note of said blue mech's irregular signs of irritation. Soundwave wasn't the kind of mech to leave his feelings on display, and while most wouldn't have noticed his attitude now, the SIC could. That red visor was uncharacteristically dim, his normally perfect poster was slightly slumped, and he'd tap a single digit every now and then against the data pad in his servos.

In truth, Starscream thought if it weren't for this fragging war, him and the cassette player could've been friends. Not that he'd voice that to anyone outside his trine. Despite his stoic exterior, the mech was pleasant company...

"Starscream: early."

And blunt.

Wings twitching, he raised his chin just a tad higher, "So? Where else should I be?"

"Repairs."

The jet couldn't hide the wince as he instinctively glanced at the digit indents marring his shoulder plating. It was a serious stroke of luck that he got off with a few dents and scratches. Megatron held back on the theory that h wasn't worth the energon it would take for his repairs. Even more confusing, he hadn't touched his wings.

"It's only cosmetic." the seeker huffed as he let his proud posture relax.

No point in playing stubborn when the mech his attitude was intended for wasn't yet present.

"Who else will be joining us this evening?" Starscream questioned with a slight loll of his helm in curiosity.

Data pad abandoned, Soundwave shifted his complete focus on the other mech.

"Megatron, Astrotrain, and Hook."

The SIC's features pulled to form a displeasured scowl. Astrotrain was no officer and was only pulled into meetings if he was to be playing a key role in whatever they were discussing. Normally, they wouldn't have bothered, but the triple changers required certain privileges every now and then to quell their defiant mood swings. Hook on the other hand was an officer.

"Is Megatron's processor lagging? We need the constructicons focused on finishing the space bridge. Not wasting time with this!" the seeker hissed, denta grit.

"Constructicons: not required for mission."

"Then what's Hook-"

"Medical expertise."

***********************

"And this here is the safety meter. It won't allow the wielder to be within range by limiting the other settings. Like, you can't set up an implosion with the radius of a mile and set the distance at twenty feet." the mechanic explained as he aimed the lethal contraption at the corner of the room, "I'd prefer it if this was only used by mechs with enhanced battle computers so they wouldn't have to mess with the dials, but I doubt anybody wants this internally wired to them."

"I see." the other scientist said as he watched the lancia take aim.

High in the ceiling corner hung an old dusty cobweb. Shortly after coming to Earth, spiders had found refuge in the Ark's vast amounts of dark places. While many like Wheelhack, Perceptor, Hound, and Skyfire found their delicate little homes things of beauty and intrigue, humans tended to fear the miniscule creatures. After ridding the ship of all pests, only the once pretty webs remained.

If they had to clean them up, what better way to go than implosion?

Making the final adjustments to the dials, Wheeljack pressed the fire switch. A small sphere shot forwards, and just before it could impact with the wall, disappeared with a pop.... As well as the web.

"My, my! I must admit I was expecting a little damage to the wall there, but seems your calculations are strictly precise. A great feat this early in development." the red mech praised.

"Naw, Percy. I've tested it before, and the results weren't as clean." the mechanic did his best to be modest, but the slight implications in his tone gave away his pride.

Not to mention the bright yellows flashing off his finials and his grin creased optics.

Perceptor returned the smile before heading over to his box of parts. There were still a few more things he needed, but in the meantime, there was no reason not to ask the question that had been niggling at his processor.

"By the way, how is Ratchet?" the microscope called over his shoulder.

For a brief moment, an awkward silence settled in the air before his friend worked up the means to answer.

"He's fine."

Perceptor frowned, having caught an irregularity in the other mech's voice. He knew the mechanic well enough to understand that 'fine' wasn't fine, or Wheeljack just really wanted him to stay out of it. It was the voice that said 'I know your curious, but it's none of your business'.

He knew the two had gone through a rough patch, anybody who knew they were bonded must have picked that up by now. However, the red bot had been sure his friend had worked it out. Seems even geniuses can make mistakes.

"Should I give him his space then?"

With a soft huff of his vents, Wheeljack returned to his normal cheeriness, "I think he'd actually appreciate that."


	6. For Better or For Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason he doesn't gamble.  
> Everyone is upset, but the meeting was a success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken an entire year for me to update this and I am truly sorry. (I blame anime.) Hopefully the updates will pick up again.
> 
> Oh! Lilpreciousone, I know this isn't any of the stories in promised you, but I just got a sudden urge to write for this one. I'm still working on the others!

While the gamble was great, First Aid was sure it to be his last.

As he entered the medbay the protectobot was affronted by the sight of his superior humming lightly as he reorganized the medbay. Technically it had already been organized, but Ratchet prefers things a tad bit different than Aid. Not a big surprise there.

The humming on the other hand is very new, not to mention the soft smile settled comfortably on the elder mech's faceplate.

Now First Aid didn't know what to think about his little bet.

The CMO's entire demeanor had flipped 180° and his reactions were now far less predictable.

The last few weeks had the assistant medic well accustomed to the doc's strange behaviour. His steady attitude still that authentic grouchiness mixed with something Aid could only attribute to exhaustion, an exhaustion most likely caused by some illness or another in his professional opinion.

The protectobot had chosen Wheeljack due to said exhaustion. The regular small repairs, curtousy of the lambo twins, didn't seem to phase the ambulance or simply weren't worth his energy to properly rant.

The lancia on the other hand was due for one of his 'learning experiences' sooner or later, which tend to border on dangerously critical injuries.

Whatever the case of Ratchet's new found energy, First Aid couldn't possibly know how much of a push it would take to set him off.

"Ahem." The smaller bot made his presence known.

The humming immediately ceased, yet the smile remained despite the elder mech's mild surprise.  
"Didn't see you come in. How was the recroom?"

First Aid hesitated, "Fine... Me and Swoop got a drink."

"Where is Swoop now?"

The assistant tried not to appear perplexed by the query as his superior hasn't been present for sometime, but the young mech still felt a hint of worry.

"With the rest of his brothers."

Ratchet nodded in understanding, placating Aid's concern.

The dinobots are steadily integrating themselves within the Autobot ranks, nevertheless they still require time together. Many mechs still have trouble interacting with the Earth native bots and their unique processors. Some treat them too harshly whilst others don't realize they are treating them like mere sparklings.

Every other day Wheeljack's creations meet up to enjoy the presence of like minded mechs with unnaturally high animalistic instincts.

"What's with these?"

Ratchet held up two data pads expectantly.

"That one is mine," he explained, "And the other belongs to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe."

The ambulance promptly handed them to the shorter mech, who then subspaced both.

One may be defective now, nevertheless supplies and resources left over from Cybertron were valuable and Aid planned to have either Preceptor or Skyfire fix it.

"So..."

"Yes?"

"How... How are you feeling today?"

"Better than I have in a long while." Ratchet sighed, a servo involuntarily patting his own chassis.

*0*0*0*0*

Starscream left the meeting room with a huff, his steps heavy and loud, wings hiked up in a blatant show of distaste, and arms crossed.

The cassettes snickered amongst themselves in amusement when Astrotrain and Hook both followed in a similar fashion. Their musings, however, were cut short when a dark servo rested itself upon their carrier's shoulder plating.

"Never overstep your bounds again."

Soundwave lowered his helm and the warlord stocked away.

The TIC rarely fell victim to Megatron's scrutiny, and even though he would walk away unscathed, the severity of his warning was on par with even that of Starscream.

...If not worse.

The defiance of a disobedient underling couldn't possibly hurt in comparison to a trusted one, and trust he did have.

However, Megatron is not a mech who rightly cherishes such a value, so his is a fragile thing.

Soundwave had very nearly broken it.

To his credit, the choice to pull Hook from his work on the space bridge proved beneficial despite the general tension throughout the meeting.

His cassets remained silent within their compartments as the tape recorder opened his chassis.

"Laserbeak: eject."

With encouraging pings from her siblings, the bird-former departed the Nemesis.

It was just the beginning... The beginning of what could possibly be the Deceptions last stand, their last chance.

Shockwave had been correct all those years ago when he predicted the war would become one of resources.

For without resources... everything crumbles to dust.

*0*0*0*0*

“Wheeljack-"

“Hmm?”

“Your machine is smoking!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it wasn't too disappointing... Especially after all this time, but I've had this boring chapter planned for a while now. Sorry if stuff doesn't flow too well or if I misspelled a word or two.
> 
> And happy late Christmas/holidays and a hopefully a happy new year to all of you who bother to read my shit.


End file.
